


Amazing Grace

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Hattercrow - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple midnight heist to a poorly guarded factory.Or so Jervis had hoped.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Anonymous





	Amazing Grace

It all had gone rather smoothly, oddly enough. A rare occurrence in their choice of professional, as Jervis was well aware.

Making his way down a long, empty hall of a silent factory, he thought back to half an hour prior, when they had watched the guards leave the building. Jonathan, bless his heart, had been quite fidgety that night, fingers curled around the staff of his scythe, nails sliding against the metal as they’d stood in the shadows together. Jervis himself was in quite high spirits, if he was to be completely honest. A night lightened by a full moon, providing them a clear vision even in the dead of night and therefore allowing them to leave such tools as flashlights at home (or ‘base’, as Jonathan had taken on calling it). And given how it was a weekend, there were practically no people in the streets of Gotham, most of them wise enough to avoid leaving their comfortable homes during night hours anyway. It had been very easy to just park their getaway van near the factory they’d be visiting this time, and sneak past the pitiful group of young trainees they tried to pass as professional security. 

Oh, if only every one of their heists would go along this effortlessly, they’d be rid of the Bat in no time. 

Actually breaking in to the building had been child’s play as well. A mere standard lock was all that stood between the two rogues and the components Jervis required, and with a few pokes around with the metal pin, the door swung open, revealing a corridor leading deeper into the factory. Overcome by the unexpected success of the task, Jervis had let out a hushed giggle before jumping over the threshold. _ What a wonderful night, in all fronts! _

Jonathan had followed soon after, although his enthusiasm had been limited to a simple huff as he tossed a dismayed look at the pathetic lock now laying on the ground.

Moving swiftly, they hurried to the other end of the hallway, pushing open another door. This one separated the manufacturing hall from the maintenance passages, and up on a higher floor, were the offices. A pair of metal staircases offered an easy access, and it’d seem that the main route there was relatively clear from security cameras. In fact, most of the lenses were aimed towards the working area below. Well, it would certainly make their job even easier, since they had no real business in the bottom floor anyhow. From the carefully collected surveillance info, which Jervis had purchased from a... ‘fellow man of craft’, they’d learned that the management preferred to keep their most recent prototypes locked inside the manager’s office, placed inside a thick-walled safe which in turn had been bolted tight to the floor. It’d be impossible to carry out, but luckily for him, Jervis had never been much of a man of physical labor. A sly grin spread on the Hatter’s face when they rounded a corner and started their climb to the upstairs, and he patted his gloved hand against his breast pocket. The small lock-pick kit was safely tucked away, ready for a new challenge once he’d have the safe in front of him.

The factory itself had gone completely quiet during the time they’d moved through it. One would have assumed there to be a sound of ventilation at the very least, but no, only their light steps echoed in the building. It was almost tempting to hum in order to fill the void, to offer _ some _noise to the eerily silent hall. Unlike his dear March Hare, Jervis enjoyed an odd melody every now and then, especially in a situation he found exciting or unnerving. This was obviously the former, and so his mind went to look for a cheery melody, something he could unleash onto this world robbed of sound altogether. Unwise, of course, but the desire was still there. 

But that thought vanished as soon as Jervis set his eyes on the dark wooden door coming into their view as the flight of stairs ended. 

_ ~“Curiouser and curiouser!”~ _he muttered, barely able to contain his glee as he rushed to the closed door, and pressed his hand against it. “The last barrier, the final obstacle.” He took a look over his shoulder, eyes gleaming in the soft light. “Really makes your heart race, does it not?”

Standing behind him and leaning his whole weight against his scythe, Jonathan raised an eyebrow. He had pulled his burlap mask up, but Jervis had already turned around and failed see the way he rolled his eyes. “You do realize that this is a criminal equivalent of shopping in a mall?”

Jervis merely waved his arm and bend over slightly to fit his pin into the lock. “Oh,_ pish posh! _ Perhaps for _ you _ this isn’t all too thrilling, but you can’t deny the certain feel it gives you, even these days, when you pull off a successful caper. I have seen the look on your face when you return from your nightly trips.” A wicked smile grew wider when he heard the telling click and pulled the pin away. “And if not the act itself, surely the _ prize _should keep you motivated, yes?” 

Without further ado, Jervis pushed the door wide open and stepped inside. The office seemed to be in good shape, few pieces of furniture sprinkled around the room for good measure, a hefty arm chair placed behind the work desk, and a clock ticking away on the wall. A charming room. And one that did nothing to try and hide the large metal box standing openly in the far corner of it.

Jervis tutted and moved over to inspect the box closer. “Sometimes I wonder if the good folks of this city are actively trying to make our jobs easier in the hopes that we’d cause them less property damage, wouldn’t you agree?” Not really waiting for an answer, he knelt before the safe and rapped his knuckles against it couple of times. It gave a hollow clank, but then again, the parts he was after weren’t that big in size, and would most likely take up little space. They’d also fit neatly in the small duffel bag they’d brought along.

It took him some time, to pull out all the tools he’d need, and to angle himself in front of the box in a way that would allow him to maintain a steady posture for a while. Picking the door locks had indeed been a breeze, but Jervis had an inkling that a professionally made safe might offer him more resistance. Not that it mattered terrible. They had the whole place for themselves now, no need to rush these things if there was no pressing reason for it.

Still loitering next to the door, Jonathan sighed and let his gaze sweep over the room too. Nothing interesting caught his attention, a spartan office with little personal belongings coloring it. Most likely decorated by a man who chose to keep his work life separated from the free time. Possibly because of problems at home, a subconscious need to maintain a place where nothing reminded him of his private struggles. No pictures of a wife, or family in general... A looming divorce, perhaps. Or a kid who had started to grow apart from the care of their parents. Fear of the work taking over when his personal life crumbled to dust, but unable to step away from the comfort it provided-

_ “Hare, are you listening to me?” _

Jonathan snapped back to the present with a violent shake of his head. Blinking owlishly, he looked over at Jervis who was giving him a questioning stare while gesturing to the other side of the room.

“Uh, apologies!” he cleared his throat and stood up straight. “You were saying?”

Still eyeing him, Jervis started again, now properly pointing towards the desk. “I asked if you’d be so kind as to hand me that pencil over there. I need to make some markings.” With that, the man went back to fiddling with the lock, leaving Jonathan to nod at his back as he fetched the pencil and slipped it into Jervis’ outreaching hand.

Once the silence settled down once more, Jonathan could feel it better. The nagging sense in the back of his skull, the kind of tingle which had lingered over him the whole day and stubbornly refused to leave. It was an anxious feeling, forcing him to tighten his grip of the scythe he was leaning on. 

A wave of shudders ran up his spine. 

He closed his eyes to resist the urge to shake out his arms.

This way, it was easy to hear how his partner in crime worked on the lock and muttered to himself. There were clinks and screeches, hushed curses and an occasional rustle of something being written down. Jonathan was becoming more and more aware of the rapid breathing that was audible in between Jervis’ mumbling, the way he paused every now and then to listen.

Of course Jervis was concerned of being caught. He usually was, more so than Jonathan, who unfortunately had had so many visits to the infamous Arkham at this point that going back didn’t faze him all that much. Jervis, however, was not created in a rogue’s world in mind. Not that he’d ever say it to the man face to face, but sometimes during their shared heists, despite his undeniable skill in the craft, Jonathan was worried of the consequences should Hatter be brought back to the asylum. It had taken weeks, closer to months, to get him back to his feet the last time they’d broken out of their imprisonment, and Jonathan had started to consider if it would take longer in the future. 

His eyes still shut, Jonathan let out a sigh. A fear of closed spaces. The anxious tics which raised their ugly head whenever Jervis was been locked away. His tendency to pace, to pull out his own hair until the doctors renewed his medication. Then came the withdrawal symptoms. Mumbling, quoting, desperate attempts to engage in conversation with the passing nurses.

Jonathan had witnessed it all from his own cell opposite that of Jervis. The glass walls offered them little to no privacy, after all. And every time he reproach himself from his fascination. He couldn’t look away during his friend’s episodes, couldn’t close off his ears when the man pushed out broken phrases of Caroll between his sobs. The rapid breathing, which only grew faster when a hoard of doctors marched down the corridor with heavy steps, heading towards -

Jonathan’s eyes snapped open precisely at the same time as Jervis turned his head around, blue eyes wide and startled.

There were steps coming from the hall below them. Judging from the tempo, there were at least three different set of feet drumming on the metal flood panels, closing in by the minute. Soon enough they reached the stairs and as the clanking sound echoed in the hall, Jonathan lost the feel of his fingers still wrapped around the scythe. 

_ Steps, coming up the stairs. The wood creaked under their weight, barely loud enough for him to hear over the never-ending caws and croaks, and his own hoarse whimpers. He tried to flail but managed only to strike his elbows against the sharp corners of the tables surrounding him. There was no space to move away. The more he tried to make his way towards the door, the louder the screams got. In the end, he couldn’t be sure if they came from his throat or the crows’. He just wanted to get out, down the stairs and - _

** _ Finally_ ** **.**

* * *

It took Jervis more than a moment to realize the potential trouble they were in. He had become rather absorbed by his lock-picking during the process, despite his initial cautiousness, and thus was terribly surprised when Jonathan suddenly perked up and spun around to face the door. The pin in Jervis’ hand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor beside him.

They’d been so close! A few more minutes, and he’d had the safe open, components secured, and they’d be on their merry way! That was the plan, that was how they’d thought it’d play out. Of course there was the chance of some minor upsets, but since the beginning of their night had gone by without a hitch, Jervis had allowed himself to wish...

Just as he was about to push his weight off the ground and get on his feet, Jervis glanced up, hoping to catch Jonathan’s eyes and perhaps quietly ask how they should handle the situation. 

He was stopped short. 

Before him stood a silent man, a slight tremble running through the lanky body. The scythe was slowly moved from hand to hand, the end of it never leaving the floor. Pale fingers, this time without their usual gloves protecting them, were white-knuckled and seemed to slip on the metal as they toyed with the handle.

When Jervis looked higher, hoping to meet the pair of familiar eyes, he was met with a layer of burlap, the face beneath sealed away from his gaze. There _ were _eyes looking back at him though. Plain, unblinking set of eyes. The thumping of his heart picked up a beat when he heard the melody, a faint humming of a song that made his skin crawl.

_ Oh dear. _

Scrambling to stand, Jervis’ mind raced to evaluate the situation. He’d need to act fast, preferably before the man decided to stroll outside the room and down the hall -

** ~_“Amazing grace.”~_ **

He got up and managed to catch the sight of his partner’s back as he walked out of the door. 

** ~_“How sweet the sound.”~_ **

Jervis rushed forward, dropping his bag in the hurry, and shoved the closing door open. His shoes slipped a bit on the metal panels, but he got his balance back by grabbing the railing next to him. One level below, Scarecrow was pulling himself back together after leaping over the rails above and landing abruptly in front of three security guards. Long, twisted limbs gave out sickening cracks as the man stretched out.

** ~_“That saved a wretch like me.”~_ **

He hadn’t made it in time, then. Powerless, and yet revoltingly curious, Jervis could only lean to the railing, trusting it to support him through what would most likely be the unfortunate ending of their once so wonderful night out. 

One of the guards, whose face had lost all of its color, was holding a walkie-talkie. With a quivering voice, a call was made. “We need backup! Now!” The transmitter buzzed, and the young man nearly dropped it. “An intruder, masked man with a -”

The masked head tipped to the left.

The spidery fingers wriggled as their grip grew firmer. With a slow lift, the scythe rose off the floor.

** ~_“I once was lost.”~_ **

The heavy staff hit the guard square to the chest, forcing him to double over and lose his hold. 

Two remaining men stumbled back, hands falling to their belts. One of them eventually got his taser out. Hands shaking, he pointed it towards the man now taking steps onward.

** ~_“But now I’m found.”~_ **

A slim hand left its grip of the scythe. 

It reached for the light switch on the near wall.

** ~_“Was blind.”~_ **

The lights flickered shut.

** ~_“But now I see...”~_ **

In the dark, the sole sound of slouching footsteps bounced in the hall’s walls. The silent clink of metal meeting metal drew closer.

** ~_“T’was grace that taught my heart to fear.”_** **~**

Neither men had time to react before the blade cut through the air, striking itself halfway into the rib-cage of the wailing man standing to the right. 

** ~_“And grace my fears relieved.”~_ **

The body slumped down with a wet thump.

A long leg stepped over the bleeding form. The scythe, swung in a lazy arc, cut down the youngest guard struggling to pull himself back up.

** ~_“How precious did that grace appear.”~_ **

The teary convulsions were lost on the remaining man. He had his taser still pointing up, wide eyes nailed to the shadow which was slowly making its way to him.

A breathless whimper escaped him when it halted a few feet away.

It raised the blade.

He wanted to run. He wanted to help his men, to flee as fast as his legs would carry him -

** ~_“The hour I first believed.”~_ **

The body tumbled over the ledge from the force of the strike.

* * *

It was difficult to maintain the hold he had of the duffel bag when his hands refused to cease their shaking. After a few attempts, Jervis did manage to pull the zipper shut. 

Keeping his eyes trained forward, he stepped out into the staircase. Over the puddles, over the bodies, all the way down to the main hall. Past the twitching man on the floor. Right by the set of red footprints leading outside.

Scarecrow was gone by now. Of course it was. It had finished what it’d set out to do, after all. 

Jervis merely hoped that Jonathan would agree with the end result. 

As he marched through the door left ajar, walking out into the cold air, he couldn’t help but hear the eerie chant in his ears, stuck there for the rest of the night. It had a tendency to linger. He had heard it so many times before. 

The signification, however, escaped him still.

With a sigh, Jervis tugged his hat lower and slung the empty bag on his shoulder. 

_ ~”I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!”~ _


End file.
